


There You Are

by Tomstinkerbell



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: D/s, Dominance, F/M, Mild BDSM, NSFW, Spanking, Submission, dom!Tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 07:24:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11641761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomstinkerbell/pseuds/Tomstinkerbell
Summary: Just something short.Dom!Tom, Dominance, Submission, Mild BDSM, Spanking, NSFW





	There You Are

**Author's Note:**

> Just something short.
> 
> Dom!Tom, Dominance, Submission, Mild BDSM, Spanking, NSFW

“There you are. That’s how you should always be when we’re alone, you know. Naked and defenseless, so that I can touch you or have you anytime, anywhere I want,” he growled, throwing the small scrap of your panties in the direction of your bedroom and the hamper before taking a seat in that chair he’d bought that smacks of a throne – and uncomfortably like something Loki would own.

You desperately want to cover yourself, but you know that his rule – when you’re in this position – is that your arms belong folded neatly behind your back, knowing that doing so forces your breasts into greater prominence.

And he is most definitely a boob man.

. . . and an ass man . . . 

And an “every other part of you” man, too.

He, of course, is still in that impeccable blue power suit of his, one arm lying along the armrest, the other bent at the elbow, index finger lying along his cheek and thumb along his jaw line, as if he’s considering you carefully – and he is.

That’s why you would give most of what you own at the moment to be able to hide yourself from that terribly intent stare of his, but you know he would never allow it.

And your body betrays you at every turn – nipples tightening painfully in a manner that you know calls his rapt attention to them, dampness gathering between your legs, despite your nervousness, because of both your current submissive position and the hungrily possessive way he’s looking at you.

The way he always looks at you – and you know you’ll never, ever get used to it, to accidentally catching his eye across the dinner table at his Mom’s and immediately having to worry that you were going to leave a wet spot on her chair. Or in public, at a red carpet event, when – as the flashes sparkle around you, he leans down to whisper in your ear, his stubble tickling that tender skin – looking incredibly romantic to the casual observer and making the cameras go even wilder – as he orders you to go to the bathroom before you sit down and bring him your panties when you return, warning you sternly that you are not allow to touch while you do so even though he left you dripping wet in the limo by fingering you through the entire trip there.

You always feel delightfully vulnerable around him – never knowing what he’ll do or say or demand of you, regardless of where you are.

And yet you also feel very protected and looked after at the same time. You’d never experienced such an unwaveringly high level of rapt attention from any man. He never misses anything about you, cosseting and coddling you, showering you with affection – but also using you shamefully - in ways you often aren’t even sure you want, although he’s always been able to make you beg for them anyway – one way or the other.

His voice tugs you forcefully back from your thoughts.

“I want you to listen very carefully, my darling. I want you to go get your bag, into which I want you to put your collar, your leash, and your nipple clamps – and bring the weights that go with them, too, as well as your pretty green jeweled plug. Then I want you to come back to that spot, drop to all fours and crawl to me, carrying the bag.”

You frown. If you’re on all fours, how are you going to carry –

An evil smile spreads over that angelic face when he knows that you understand that you’re going to have to carry it in by putting the handles in your mouth.

Then he looked at his watch and touched a button. “I’ll be very generous and give you an entire minute to complete the task, which is much longer than you should really need.”

Surprised, you simply stand there for a few seconds, until he raises his eyebrows at you.

He frowns a little and cocks his head to the side. “Do you need to know what I’m going to do to you if you don’t get those things to me in time, and in the method I have prescribed for you, beautiful?”

Already moving, you whisper, “No, Sir!” because you already have a good idea what he’ll do.

The things weren’t too hard to find, and you make your way back to where you were and drop to your knees. The handles of the bag fit into your mouth without too much problem, and you high tail it to him – almost literally - as quickly as you can without so much as looking at him.

After only a few feet, though, you hear the timer go off and know you’re already late, and you whimper at the sound of it, but you don’t stop trying to get to him.

“Aawwww, honey,” he tsks, “and you tried so hard, too,” he sympathizes, actually sounding as if he actually means it.

When you get there, he arranges you so that you’re next to his chair, facing the same direction as he is, still on all fours, the bag still hanging from your mouth.

That’s when you realize that, as he reaches his hand down to cover your bottom, you’re at the perfect level for him to spank you.

But before he does, he reaches for something on the table next to him, and the big TV on the wall comes to life, playing a montage he’d apparently created of the times he’d videoed the two of you together – but he’d creatively whittled it down to just the punishments and your wild, loud orgasms, and during which he proceeds to brighten your backside with his rock hard palm.

You’re embarrassed to realize that the sounds you make in both cases – and the ones you’re making now as his palm rises and falls on you and when he’s driven you over the edge in to carnal bliss - are eerily similar . . .

In the middle, though, he stops spanking you to switch to something you recognize the touch of immediately when he lays it against your sore butt – your big wooden hairbrush, which he wields expertly, and with terrible effect . . .


End file.
